Love Is
by Reptile Princess
Summary: "Meeting you was fate, becoming your friend was a choice, but falling in love with you was beyond my control." Love is something scholars try to explain with essays, and something mechanics try to improve, as if it were a machine, even though you can't.


**All credit on this pairing goes to_ Chaety Amaryllis Jackson III_, who came up with it first. I just came up with the idea. **

**I would like you to tell me what you think of this pairing. (A simple 'good pair' or 'bad pair' will do. See? It's only ten characters. I care more about what you think of them together then what you think of my story) Yes! By all means people, you can flame if you dislike the pairing. Feel free to. I would love to know what you think. All criticism welcome! **

**P.S. I don't own Percy Jackson. Or Nyssa and Malcolm. I also don't own the Bible verse Corinthians 13:4-7**

Love is Patient and Love is Kind

Malcolm sits on the edge of the dock at the canoe lake, the bottom of his shoes skimming across the water, reflections of the sun scatter in ripples across the surface. He hears footsteps creaking across the wood, coming toward him.

He figures they're too soft of footsteps to be a guy's. Malcolm's right, because the next thing he knows, Nyssa's sitting next to him. Her head cocked slightly to the side, looking at him with her beautiful eyes. Malcolm glances over at her. She drops her gaze and stares across the water, the sun slowly beginning to dip below the hills. Their long shadows stretch across the dock.

It looks like she wants to tell him something. He waits patiently for her to speak but she never does. He then realizes that she didn't come here to tell him something, but she came here just to sit with him and keep him company.

Malcolm relaxes. The silence is peaceful and comfortable. Her hand rests by her side and Malcolm moves his hand slowly closer to hers. His hand hovers over Nyssa's for a few moments, then she flips her hand palms up. Malcolm rests his hand in hers and Nyssa laces her fingers through his.

Malcolm hopes Nyssa is too busy watching the sun set to see his blush, or that he's trying to hide the happy smirk that seems impossible to wipe off his face.

It is Neither Envious nor Jealous

Nyssa's heart is as heavy as an anvil when they light his shroud. Beckendorf's dead. He wasn't going to come back. She doesn't cry, though. No matter how much she wants to.

Her mother had taught her to be strong in times of weakness. She had made a silent vow that no one would ever see her cry. To this day, that promise has not been broken.

Malcolm sits beside her, not saying a word. She is grateful for this, she hates it when people lie and say that they knew what she's going through, or how things will get better. Seriously, how could things get better when Western Civilization could be destroyed within the next few weeks? Think before you talk, people.

Nyssa usually doesn't like silences, but sometimes silence is the most needed thing. It says things words can never explain.

-Ω-

Later, Malcolm walks Nyssa to her cabin. She needs a moment to collect herself before she goes in. She is sure will be enveloped in an atmosphere of puffy eyes, tears, and runny noses.

"I envy you." Malcolm whispers. The statement catches Nyssa off guard_. Yeah, you'd love to be _me_ for a day. _She thinks of saying.

Instead she responds with a simple,"Why?"

"You don't cry. At least not in front of people. I wish I could be more like you. I know that _I_ couldn't hold it together the way you do."

"Some people call it heartless, my mother calls it being strong hearted," Nyssa shrugs. "You should just be happy the way _you_ _are,_ Malcolm. I know that's hard to do because no one truly likes who they are or how they look. Be proud of who you are. I mean, you're smart and cunning. Look at you. You can calculate something in your head in a second that takes me five minutes to write down on paper. You know exactly what to say to make people feel better. Like tonight, you somehow knew that saying nothing was the best thing to say. People think you're amazing just as you are. I know I do."

Malcolm brightens,"Thanks. You really think that?"

Nyssa stops herself from rolling her eyes and punches his shoulder.

"Ow," Malcolm rubs his shoulder and smiles. "I'll take that as a yes. Um... Thanks for the pep talk."

"Anytime," Nyssa says. She frowns. "I'd better go."

"Goodnight." Malcolm whispers. He gently strokes her cheek with his soft hand. Her heartbeat suddenly goes crazy. Ignoring it, she puts her hand over his, looking into his gray eyes which seem dark in the night. For some reason this calms her down: His warm hand pressed against her cheek, silently telling her that he's here for her.

Nyssa doesn't want to push his hand away, or break his sympathetic gaze. Still, she does so and tells him goodnight.

She walks up the steps and opens the door of her cabin, then closes it behind her gently. The sound of the silent sobbing and sniffling of her bunkmates reaches Nyssa's ears. Her heart sinks and reminds herself not to get worked up or emotional. She comforts anyone who is in tears, and sees Jake doing the same. She feels bad for him. Thrust into being cabin counselor, and having to set a strong example for the other Hephaestus campers.

While Nyssa comforts little Harley, she thinks of Malcolm. Nyssa is sure that he meant to stroke her face in a friendly gesture. After all, they were just friends... right? If they were, then why had her heart hammered against her chest when he touched her cheek?

It Does Not Boast and Is Not Proud

Malcolm's sword clashes with Nyssa's. Sweat begins to form on the back of Malcolm's neck as their swords stay in midair for a few moments. He's trying to predict her next move.

She will try to overpower him. That's just how Nyssa is. Never backs down from challenges and faces them head on.

He analyses first her stance, and her expression. Both of her hands are holding the hilt of her sword, pressing it against his. Nyssa's body is turned at an angle. Feet planted firmly, knees slightly bent, and her right foot is a few feet in front of the other. Her muscles are tensed, anticipating his next move. Nyssa's jaw is clenched, her teeth gritting together. She has a nice death glare. It looks like she's examining him as if he was a machine. Trying to take him apart and see how he works and what makes him tick.

She's putting more of her weight on her sword than her feet. Malcolm's muscles ache as she presses her sword harder against his. He tries to balance the weight on his feet and sword so they're even. His knees are starting to buckle under the pressure of Nyssa's sword.

She will use all of her bodyweight to push his sword down. If he pulls his away when she's using her full amount of strength, she'll fall. If he goes for a stab or a slash at her, she'll most likely roll away as anyone would. Or she could attempt to deflect it while she's on her knees. Then he could flick his wrist and send her sword flying.

Malcolm is almost to the ground with Nyssa standing over him. In a flash, he pulls his sword away, causing Nyssa to fall to the ground on her knees. He whirls and brings the flat of his sword to her head, but she brings her sword up at the last minute in an attempt to stop it. Nyssa pants as she puts her weight on her sword again.

"No fair." she mutters.

"Nyssa, my dear, _life_ isn't fair. We, being demigods, know this better than anyone."

"Cut it with the smart talk, Wise Boy!"

"Oh, you can come up with a smarter nickname than that. Now, as you will soon see, you should never talk during battle," Malcolm's voice is strained as he tries to focus more on their swords than speaking. He presses his sword harder against hers. "Because it distracts you from what's going on around you."

With that he steps back with his sword still connected with his sword hilt in hers, he flicks his wrist and sends her sword flying, he picks it up from the dirt and stands over her, swords crossed in an X against her throat. If he was an enemy, she'd be dead.

Malcolm smirks, then sheaths his sword and holds his hand out to her. She looks at him and gets up on her own. Malcolm smiles. Nyssa knows enough not to trust anyone who offers to help her up after sword fighting. Even though he was actually going to.

Malcolm hands her sword to her. She takes it from him and seems almost mad, then starts to walk away.

"Oh come on, Nyssa."

"You're such a showoff." Nyssa says, sounding irritated.

Malcolm feels slightly hurt by this. The last thing he was, was a showoff, "I wasn't trying to. I was just trying to help you ou-"

"Well, you made me feel like an idiot." Nyssa snaps at him.

Malcolm catches up with her and touches her shoulder. She turns around and waits for him to speak. Instead he wraps her in a hug.

"I've never meant to make you feel that way. That's actually the last way I want you to feel when you're around me." He replies gently. She smells like smokewood and metal. It isn't that bad of a smell actually.

"Well you did." Nyssa sighs, straining against his hug.

"You don't like it when people hug you do you?" Malcolm asks.

"No. Especially if I'm pissed."

"Well, I'm not letting go any time soon so you'd better get used to it."

Nyssa stops straining, and crosses her arms, which press into Malcolm's ribs. She acts like she hates him holding her. If she really didn't want to be hugged, she would have kicked him or punched him, but he knows that inside she doesn't mind him holding her one bit.

It is Not Rude 

Nyssa stands in the doorway and knocks on the doorframe. Malcolm looks up from sketching something.

His blonde hair is sticking up, which reminds Nyssa of those cartoons with mad scientists in them with their hair all crazy after creating some experiment that's lethal to mankind. His eyes are the color of mist on a gray ocean and have that half-asleep look you get as you look into the mirror after stumbling out of bed and into the bathroom.

"Come on in." He says.

"You look..."

"Horrible?"

Nyssa hesitates. His mouth is hanging slightly open, his clothes are wrinkled, and he still looks half awake so she gets the impression that he's sort of drunk. His eyes droop and she half expects him to pass out. She searches for some good in how he looks.

His gray eyes are beautiful, as always. And his hair actually doesn't look that bad. It's actually kind of sexy that way, touseled and all. His skin's pretty much flawless. (Curse these Athena kids with their good skin. When you work with motor oil all day like she does, well, you do have a bit of an acne problem. No matter how many times a day she uses Aphrodite's Acne Annihilator which she borrows from Piper McLean, an actually _decent_ daughter of Aphrodite). But really, these Athena kids have _great_ skin.

"No. You look... rugged. Well, except for the look on your face that's worthy of Haymitch Abernathy." Nyssa jokes lightly.

"Hey bitc- what!"

"No! _Haymitch_. Don't worry, I'll rent the movie for you."

"Movie?"

Malcolm looks like she'd just asked him to eat a textbook on computer softwaring.

"The Hunger Ga- never mind. What were you up all night doing?"

"Argo II. Blueprints. Annabeth, me, and a few others stayed up until eleven calculating, measuring, and all that. I think I stayed up a little later than I should have. I can't think right. My head hurts and I can't comprehend much of what you're saying."

Nyssa nods, looking at him and feeling slightly concerned,"You think?"

She'd been taking fifteen minute power naps hidden next to a heater in Bunker Nine for the past few days. But she hadn't stayed up _all_ night yet.

"Well, get some sleep, Einstein. I'll take these blueprints down to the bunker."

"Not done yet, though." Malcolm mutters, yawning.

Nyssa smiles. What Malcolm starts, he finishes. She guesses that's just the way Athena kids are.

"I'm sure Annabeth will be able to figure it out. Thanks, Malcolm. Go to bed now."

Malcolm mumbles okay and goes to his bunk and lies down without even taking off his shoes. He's asleep within secods. Nyssa walks over and rolls up his blueprints, then tucks them under her arm.

She looks at Malcolm's sleeping figure and rolls her eyes. He works himself too hard. One day he's going to have his brain explode or something. She then walks over to his bunk, pushes his hair out of his eyes and hesitantly presses her lips to his temple. She then leaves, but Nyssa can swear she hears him murmur her name in his sleep as she walks out the door.

It is Not Self-Seeking

He doesn't mean to walk on her changing. It's an accident, really. This is why people should always knock before opening a closed door when you think someone's in the room, or cabin in this case. He catches a glimpse of Nyssa and somehow Malcolm knows he won't ever really be able to think of her as just a friend again, although he's liked her more than that for a while now.

She has a perfect figure. Curves in all the right places, visible muscles lying under the bronze colored skin of her body. Glossy dark hair cascading down her back and covering part of her face as she reaches for the pair of jeans lying on her cot. He likes Nyssa, a lot. It's just the two of them in the cabin. They're completely alone. No one to intrude on them. He forces himself not to think this way, thinking like this leads to bad decisions which lead to unchangeable mistakes. He's in the middle of thinking this when Nyssa looks up and whirls around, hugging the jeans to her half naked body.

"Malcolm! What the Hades! Don't you knock?" Nyssa screams, and calls him a swear word that in the dictionary translates to an illegitimate child.

This is true, he has to admit. She also calls him the cuss word for being the son of a trampy female dog, which he knows is not true. She is about to say the mother of all swear words when he apologizes and says he didn't mean to. Nyssa goes on to tell him that he is a worthless pile of owl... well, let's just say it sounds a lot like the word schist. She finally tells him to get out, which he does.

Malcolm goes to his cabin and lies facedown on his bunk, his face crammed into his pillow as he wishes he could just disappear. Annabeth asks what happened and inquires why he is blushing. He throws his pillow in her direction and pretends to be asleep. Even though he feels horrible about it, he knows Nyssa will forgive him and hopefully they'd both forget about it... eventually.

It is Not Easily Angered and Keeps No Record of Wrongs 

"It's done." Nyssa whispers in awe. She runs her hand along the exterior of the Argo II. Only eight months to build a boat and they had done it. Everyone had helped. Well, except for the Hypnos cabin.

To Nyssa's surprise, the Aphrodite cabin did the interior designing. At least it counted for something. The Demeter kids had chosen which types of wood would be best to use, Ares had weapons hidden under the planks and Nyssa had thought she'd heard something about Celestial bronze cannonballs being planted into it, hidden "just in case those Romans need to be shown who's boss." as Clarisse had put it. Apollo cabin had healed any casualties, Hermes stole anything they needed from local stores in the mortal world and the Stolls had ceased their pranks for the time being which Nyssa was sure took a lot of willpower for them to do.

Malcolm smiles sadly,"Here we go again, huh?"

Nyssa turns and when she looks at him her heart sinks. He's right. Soon they could be all battling for their lives against the Romans, or in a few weeks they'd be fighting against the Giants, and Gaea. The Earth Goddess herself. Here we go again is right. One year after a huge war, another one comes and smacks them in the face. There are slimmer chances that they'd survive this time.

Malcolm walks closer to her. They're almost hidden in the shadows, so it'd be hard for anyone to see them. He fiddles with a stray strand of her hair. She looks into his eyes, which are not meeting hers.

"Before we leave I was wondering if we could clean the slate, you know? So... I'm sorry for anything I've done wrong to you. I hope you'll forgive me, and mean it." Malcolm says.

"I do. I'm sorry if I've gotten angry at you. Just stress and all that. And I do forgive you, for everything. I know that you forgive me, too." Nyssa replies.

Malcolm half smiles. He looks into her eyes and presses her gently against the ship. He's so close to her she can smell him: musty paper, citrus, and his cologne which has a minty, almost shaving cream like smell to it.

He strokes her cheek and says the last thing she would ever expect him to say,"I think I love you."

Malcolm's arms wrap around her waist and Nyssa puts hers around his neck. He leans in slowly, almost too slow. Nyssa presses herself harder against the ship. She does not pull away, she does not squirm or turn her cheek. She wonders if he can hear her heartbeat, which pounds fast in her chest. Or if he feels the same anticipation that she's feeling right now. Nyssa can feel his hot, sweet smelling breath on her lips, his warm body pressed against hers. Her lips part slightly. His lips are almost in contact with hers. Nyssa closes her eyes. his lips suddenly brush against hers.

"Yeah Nyssa! Get some lip action baby!" Leo yells, then whistles.

Nyssa and Malcolm jump apart, almost bumping noses in the process. Nyssa looks to see where the voice is coming from. She looks up and sees Leo looking down at them. _Stalker._ Nyssa thinks.

"I thought you were supposed to be making last minute adjustments." Nyssa says.

"I was, and then I saw you two and thought 'whoa! Nyssa has a boyfriend? It'd be so funny if I interrupted them and they both freaked out!' so I did." Leo smiles.

Nyssa rolls her eyes and looks back at Malcolm. He smiles and shakes his head. She waits until she hears Leo's footsteps receding.

When she's sure no one is in earshot, she leans over and whispers in Malcolm's ear, "I think I love you, too."

Love Does Not Delight in Evil but Rejoices With the Truth 

It Always Protects, Always Trusts, Always Hopes, and Always Preserves 


End file.
